


when doubt turns a page: five ways Oliver Queen returns

by Medie



Category: Smallville
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-24
Updated: 2010-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:58:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all comes back to this, to a little town in the middle of nowhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when doubt turns a page: five ways Oliver Queen returns

1\. **_and the we left behind can exhale the wreck_**

Grey skies above, grey pavement below; Bludhaven is a city forgotten and looks it. When Ollie flies in on a private jet, he sees none of it. From the moment his shoes touch the runway, he steps into a carefully plotted script that takes him - via limo - from the airstrip to the mayor's mansion to be wined and dined by politicians and executives alike. He goes along with it, amused to have an alibi planned for him.

It's much easier when the criminals do the work for you. He listens to conversations around him, exchanging pointless small talk with William Earle and tries not to lose his lunch on Earle's three-piece. Ollie doesn't remember much about Thomas Wayne, but he remembers enough. The deal that's brought him Bludhaven is one of Earle's babies; he's bleeding the city dry to profit his Gotham stockholders.

Ollie thinks Thomas must be rolling in his grave and, not for the first time, wonders where the fuck Bruce is. This is his problem, not Ollie's.

He solves it anyway, so Bruce can owe him one. By the time the Green Arrow makes his appearance atop a Bludhaven high-rise, Oliver Queen has staged a small takeover. The Wayne Enterprises board won't be happy, but he suspects some of them will be relieved. He doesn't care. Oliver's focus is Bludhaven, not the precious egos of a few Gotham fat cats. With vultures like Earle picking at their bones, Bludhaven needs all the help it can get.

Halfway through the Green Arrow's first survey of Bludhaven, so does Ollie. His intelligence suggested that street gangs ruled the city, but the situation is even worse than that. He's overwhelmed and outgunned before he knows it.

At least they're professional about killing him. The first bullet tears through his shoulder, missing his heart only because he moves with it, the second grazes his ear. Ollie tries to flee, but blood slick fingers fumble with the grapple. He stumbles toward the mouth of the alley and around the corner where he falls into a hot blonde's arms.

Typical. He always did have terrible timing with women.

She holds him up, pressing a hand against his chest, but shows little sign of strain. Interesting. "Let me guess, they didn't like your outfit?" she says flippantly, unruffled at being accosted by a man covered in blood and wearing green leather. More interesting.

"Who knew green leather was a fashion faux pas," he rasps and sees her grin.

"Actually, it was the sunglasses," she says, looking past him. Her smile disappears and she adjusts her hold. "Hang on."

The world blurs around them, the ground drops away, and when Ollie's brain catches up, they're speeding into the night. "What the hell," he slurs, looking down. It's a mistake, his vision swimming, and he groans faintly.

His gravity-defying angel says something but Ollie doesn't hear it. He passes out.

-

He wakes up, shirtless, covered by a sheet worn knobby by years of use. The ceiling over his head is water-stained and dull. Wherever he is, it's not the Ritz, but it's clean and dry. Hopefully, he thinks, safe.

"Don't get up," a voice warns. His angel. She appears, leaning over him, backlit by the morning light. Whimsically, he thinks it looks like a halo. "You lost a lot of blood, Mr. Queen," she says, fingers checking the bandage on his shoulder. "You almost died."

He freezes, tensing, but she quells his automatic protest with a look. "All things considered," she says. "We're even."

Remembering the feeling of air rushing by him, the shock of realizing _how_, Ollie looks into her calm gaze and sees the fear hidden in its depths. "Yeah," he says. "We are."

She smiles and hands him a phone. "You should probably call your office, they'll be worried. Generally, when people are late for work in Bludhaven, something very nasty has happened to them."

He looks at her. "Why do you live here?" With an ability like hers, she's not limited to this city.

Her smile suggests a story longer than anything he could imagine. "The world ended." Rising gracefully, she touches his shoulder. "Call. I'll be back with something to eat when you're done."

Ollie watches her leave and then realizes that he still doesn't know her name.

-

It's Kara. She's a nursing student working her way through college and sharing the apartment with her mother. Edna Danvers won't look him the eye, her gaze going anywhere but, and Oliver sees the way she watches her daughter.

She's afraid he'll take her away; the rich man stealing the widow's only treasure.

Ollie almost reconsiders asking.

-

"Who's this?" Kara asks, touching a photograph on his desk. It's a surveillance shot, Lois with Clark after he left, too many shadows in her eyes for Ollie's liking. His eyes slide away from the picture, the stab of guilt the sight of her face invokes a familiar ache.

"That's Lois," he answers. "She -- That's Lois."

"No," says Kara, her voice strangely choked. "Him."

Always the farm boy, Ollie thinks with a wry grin. "Him? That's Clark Kent." He turns, his grin fading at the look on her face. Kara keeps her thoughts to herself, behind the deception of an easy smile and a light laugh. The connection should have been obvious and he kicks himself that it wasn't. "You know him."

She touches the picture reverently, lifting it up, and he sees a tear track down her cheek. "I knew his father." Kara's voice is accented when she speaks, a lilt on the words, and it's not one he knows. She swallows and looks at him. "Where is he?"

"Smallville, Kansas." Ollie makes a note to warn Victor they're going to be late. "Who was his father?"

Kara looks up. "My uncle." She sits heavily on the lush sofa behind her, staring at the picture in awe. "Kal-El looks just like him."

When she presses the picture to her chest and closes her eyes, Oliver's throat tightens and he looks away. This isn't a moment human eyes were meant to witness.

-

He gives her time to compose herself. When she is, she looks at him with eyes rimmed red from crying. "Can you take me there?"

Ollie looks at her. "You don't need me to get there." Without him, she'd get there faster.

She smiles shakily. "No, but I need you to be there." Kara's still holding the picture, fingers curled tight around it. She looks at it like her mother looked at her. "There are things I'll have to tell him, things he won't want to hear."

Ollie thinks of the way Clark dances around his abilities and understands. He won't make her do this alone and so he nods. "The pilot's ready to leave whenever we are."

She smiles brighter than the sun and, for a moment, Oliver feels like he's flying.

 

2\. **_maybe we'll meet in a marketplace, spread a tablecloth in shifting sand_**

For an excursion into the streets of Kuala Lampur, Ollie leaves the Green Arrow gear on the plane. Here, the only disguise he needs is a ratty pair of jeans and an old t-shirt as he cloaks himself in the anonymity of crowded streets and busy markets.

Around the world, in the highrises of the business district, Ollie's name and money make him a financial rockstar. On the streets, he's just another American tourist looking to get lost in the crowd.

Behind him, A.C. is doing the same, laughing as a group of children scatter around them. Their shrieks of playful laughter fill the air and Ollie looks back over their heads to share a grin with his friend. A.C. grins back and, after they extricate themselves from the children they keep on moving.

Their presence goes largely unnoticed by the locals as they keep moving save for the occasional admiring glance from a passerby. Smiling politely, Ollie returns each look with a nod, evaluating them for any signs that would give them away.

Somewhere in the crowded market, their contact is waiting and carrying crucial information. Without that information, finding the local 33.1 operation will get a hell of a lot harder and Ollie needs the break. Saving the world's a lot harder than even he thought it would be and he's tired.

Looking back, he likes to blame that for the reason he didn't see the hit coming.

-

"Same old Ollie," a familiar voice says when he wakes. Lying on his back, he stares at the dirty ceiling and blinks in disbelief. It cannot possibly be who he thinks it is. "Always with your nose in the air, not watching your back."

Bruce Wayne leans over him, grimy face smirking, "As I recall, that got you into more than one shitstorm back at Excelsior."

"Son of a _bitch_," Ollie snaps, sitting up. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Meeting you," Bruce says, rocking back on his haunches to survey Ollie. The look on his face reminds Ollie of a kid watching a bug under a microscope and he bristles, feeling like the decade between them and Excelsior never happened. He always hated the comparisons between them, but that doesn't stop him from falling right back into the competitive mode.

"I like your definition of meet," he says, gingerly touching the lump on the back of his head. "Most people consider that assault."

"I'm not most people," Bruce stands, turning away. "So how goes things back home?"

"Wayne Enterprises is going to shit, the executives on the board are greedy bastards out for their own ends, and oh yeah, Gotham's still circling the bowl," Ollie says with a shrug. "Same old, same old."

"Good to know," says Bruce, his expression giving away nothing. "I take it Lex has finally gotten past his daddy issues?" He leans against the far wall. "This 33.1 thing seems right up his alley."

"Grown up version of pulling the wings off of flies," Ollie agrees. He grunts as he stands, and tries to ignore the way his head swims ominously. "Where's A.C.?"

"The surfer dude?" Bruce smiles. "Probably still in the market looking for you. You're keeping interesting company these days."

Clark comes to mind and Ollie smiles back, a superior edge on the gesture. "Bruce, you have _no_ idea." He devotes his attention to brushing off his jeans as he adds, "Or maybe you do, this isn't exactly the kind of town I'd expect to find the golden boy of Gotham hanging out in. Shouldn't you be back home, padding the family coffers?"

He glances up to see an ominous look flick across Bruce's face. Satisfied he's got back the upper hand, Ollie straightens and gestures. "So, what do you have?"

"Rumors," Bruce says. "Around here, that's as best as we can get. Lex is smart; only hires staff who are illiterate and non-English speaking."

"Like that would stop you," Ollie folds his arms. "You speak the language."

"Some," agrees Bruce. He holds out a small folded square of paper. "Directions. No street address, but you should be able to find it from there." He looks at Ollie, raising an eyebrow. "Why are you here, Oliver?"

Ollie takes the paper and pockets it. "Someone has to be." He turns to go and almost makes it to the door.

"Ollie."

He looks back, surprised by the suggestion of approval in Bruce's eyes. "One of the lab staff can't speak English, but he is able to read it. Says he read a report about somebody in Smallville who's getting a _lot_ of interest from Lex. According to him, the report listed some rather unusual abilities and more than anyone identified by 33.1 thus far." Bruce lifts his shoulders in a slight shrug. "I thought it might be someone you know."

"Maybe," Ollie agrees. "Thanks Bruce." He looks at the door, then back at the other man. "It's good to see you're okay."

Bruce's smile is genuine and he nods. "It's good to be seen, but -- "

With a little grin, Ollie opens the door. "I know." Walking out, he calls back, "Try not to get yourself killed, I've got better things to do than save your ass."

As he rounds the corner, Ollie thinks he hears Bruce laugh. At least one of them is having a good day.

-

A.C. meets him in the market, Victor and Bart at his back and ready for action.

"Easy, fellas," he says, holding up his hands. "My contact was a little shy." He rubs the back of his head and smiles wryly. "Shy and a little quick with the blunt objects." He pulls out the paper. "But he did have what we're looking for and a little more besides."

"Meaning?" Victor asks, taking the paper from him.

"Meaning we've got to move," Ollie looks back to catch a glimpse of Bruce in the crowd. "Lex may be on to Clark; we need to get back to Smallville before he makes a move."

3\. **_it never fails, I see you when trying to forget_**

These days, Ollie likes to keep an eye on the sky. A dedicated satellite system seems like an expense he can justify. The rest of the world can pretend there's nothing out there, but he doesn't have the luxury. They've seen what happens when those aliens aren't friendly; memories of Dark Thursday will haunt his dreams for years to come.

He doesn't doubt that it will happen again and, when it does, Ollie wants to be ready. The surveillance satellites should be enough to give the team ample warning to prepare. It's not their only recourse, but he doesn't believe in taking chances without stacking the deck. He likes having an idea of the hand that will be dealt before the cards fall before him.

When the alert hits his Blackberry, Ollie's in the middle of a charity auction at Central City and he's only too happy to duck out early. He spends night after night risking his life, facing down thug after thug. Without a doubt, he thinks he'd happily face down a whole army of them than one roomful of leering women.

So when he sees the alert, he's relieved. It might just be a single signature that's too small to be a ship, but its speeding straight at the planet without asking permission first. That counts as an emergency for him, and Ollie excuses himself from the party, pleading a business crisis. By the time he's back on board the jet, the system has extrapolated a potential target for landing. It helpfully flashes a map up onto the screen, complete with little glowing red dot over a familiar piece of landscape.

"Smallville," he says, loosening his tie. "Why is it aliens always land in _Kansas_?" Somewhere, he thinks sourly, Clark Kent is laughing at him.

-

"Okay, so there's something up there and it's heading this way," Clark repeats skeptically, leaning back in a chair and looking at the laptop. The projections from the satellite system play out on a loop, zooming in and targeting on Smallville each time. He looks amused. "Did you get Victor to cook this up so you could blow off the charity auction?"

Ollie winces. "You know about that?"

"Chloe's still snickering," says Clark. "Who was the redhead that copped the feel?"

"Veronica Vreeland, from Gotham," Ollie says in a low mutter. With no plans to rescue the Vreeland family from themselves, he's been dodging Veronica and her father practically since he hit eighteen. "Nobody important."

"Well, she looked like she was pretty important," Clark suggests, making a bad attempt at a leer. He wears it so awkwardly it's almost cute.

"Looks can be deceiving," Ollie says. "We like to joke that Bruce Wayne disappeared just to get away from her." He's not the only billionaire bachelor on Veronica's hit list, he's just been the most successful at dodging it.

This time it's Clark who winces. "That bad?"

"Worse than that bad," Ollie sighs, stopping the simulation. "And for the record, I did leave the charity a big fat check, so they're happy and my ass escapes mostly intact." He's probably got bruises where she grabbed him. He shifts uncomfortably and grins when Clark's gaze slides over him.

He probably should have changed out of the tux, but he's enjoying Clark's reaction. "So, about our UFO?"

Clark grimaces. "Right, the UFO." He scratches the back of his neck, drawing Ollie's attention to it. For a moment, he lets himself picture Clark in a tux. The mental image does interesting things and he coughs, drawing Clark's eye. "You okay?"

"Dry throat," Ollie lies.

Nodding, Clark relaxes and reaches out to start the laptop's simulation again. It gives Ollie something to focus on that isn't the almost-indecent posture Clark's adopted. If Clark's casual Kansas farm boy routine is distracting, these moments are downright maddening. The little glimpses of the person he hides beneath the persona, the person who's been driving Ollie crazy. The suggestions of controlled power, of a comfortable familiarity with things Ollie can't even dream of, the _other_ that lurks beneath the surface.

Sometimes, Ollie thinks he could spend the rest of his life trying to figure out Clark Kent and never get close. It's a challenge he appreciates. "Whatever it is," he says, "it's too small to be a ship and, it's headed straight for Smallville."

Sighing, Clark tilts his head. "Why is it always Smallville?" he wonders with obvious frustration.

Ollie grins. "Maybe Lex or his father has a giant magnet made of meteor rock hidden under the town?"

"Sometimes, I wonder," Clark says with a snort. "It's a better explanation than the ones I've been able to come up with around here." He looks at Ollie and Ollie looks back, caught up in the mysteries hiding behind Clark's eyes. There's so much that Clark hasn't told him, so many things that he's left to wonder about.

He blinks and then there's a suggestion of something else entirely in Clark's eyes. Coughing nervously, Clark gestures at the screen and says, "So, you wanna hunt a UFO with me?"

-

Pressed against a tree, a glowing green hand holding him there, Ollie looks at the young man on the other end of it and grins. "You know we could just talk about this. I'm sure you have a few questions you'd like to ask, God knows I do." Like where a guy would have to go to get a ring that could make hands out of energy. It's even in his favorite color.

"I'm guessing you're the blip that showed up on the satellite," Ollie continues, hoping the silent treatment won't last forever. "Does the ring double as a spaceship in its spare time?" He scores a point with that one, a flicker of reaction ghosting over the carefully impassive features. "So, ET, you just in the neighborhood, or are you here for a purpose?"

"ET?" the stranger repeats skeptically, a hint of a grin appearing on his face.

"Well, you _look_ human," Ollie says, "but the part where you apparently flew through space without a ship tends to suggest otherwise."

"I'm human," is the response and the grin widens, "from Detroit, actually."

Ollie nods, filing that away for later. "Star City myself."

"Ah," the newcomer nods, folding his arms across the strange green and black jumpsuit. "Surfer boy."

Ollie thinks of A.C. and grins. "Actually not that much," he says. "So, other than checking out the Midwest, what brings you here? I didn't think Kansas was a huge extraterrestrial hotspot."

His captor surprises him with a genuine chuckle. "You'd be surprised." The energy hand vanishes, letting Ollie drop to the ground again. "The name's John Stewart."

"Oliver Queen," Ollie replies. "So, really human?"

"More or less," Stewart says. It's the understatement of the galaxy, but Ollie doesn't say so. They're finally getting somewhere and he's in no hurry to jinx it. "This is just the job," he holds up the hand wearing the ring. "Don't suppose you've noticed anything strange going on around here lately?"

Ollie grins. "We're in Smallville, John Stewart, _everything_ is strange." A flicker of movement behind John catches his eye and he looks past him to Clark. Walking into the clearing, Clark is frowning. He's been listening and he doesn't like what he's heard. Ollie flicks his gaze back to John again, hoping the other man won't notice the slip.

It's too late for that and Stewart spins, bringing up the ring which is now glowing ominously. Anyone else wouldn't have moved in time, but this is Clark and he's not anyone else. Stewart ends up pressed against the tree, Clark holding the hand wearing the ring tight.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" he demands, green light leaking through his fingers.

Stewart stares at Clark with recognition on his face. "Jor-El?" he asks.

It's a name that's unfamiliar to Ollie, but the way Clark visibly pales and drops Stewart says it's not to him.

"No," Clark manages in a voice choked with emotion. "I'm his son."

-

Ollie's never been the most patient of people so when John Stewart insists on speaking to Clark _'alone'_, quotation marks most emphatically implied, he ends up pacing nearby. By the time Clark finally appears, Ollie's practically worn a trench into the dirt.

"How'd it go?" he asks, feeling ineffectual. The look on Clark's face is drawn, pinched, and very tired. Ollie can see for himself how it went.

"I don't know," Clark says, shrugging. "Have you ever heard of something called the Green Lantern Corps?"

"No," Ollie says. "But I'm willing to bet our friend back there is one of these Green Lanterns?"

Clark nods. "Yes. They were looking for my father; they thought they'd find him here." He falls silent, staring at a rock between his feet.

"And that would be Jor-El?" Ollie says, his voice gentle.

Again Clark nods. "Guess it's stating the obvious if I say I'm from another planet."

"Yes, but I didn't need John Stewart to tell me that." Ollie smiles, watching the stunned surprise spread across Clark's face. He nudges Clark with and elbow. "I've seen some unusual abilities lately, but nobody comes close to you. It seems like every time I turn around, you're pulling off miracles. Plus, let's not forget the part where you're allergic to _rocks_."

His smile turns into a grin as Clark smiles sheepishly. "Okay, you've got a point," he says. "But there is more going on here than just that."

"There usually is more," Ollie agrees. "If you're not up to sharing it, however, we don't have to."

"No," Clark shakes his head. "It helps." He sighs before continuing with, "According to John, my people were a pretty advanced race without a lot of crime. Any criminals we did have were incarcerated in an extra-dimensional prison called the Phantom Zone."

He looks at Ollie and Ollie has a feeling what's coming next. He isn't disappointed.

"My father, Jor-El, controlled access to it and when the Lanterns had someone even they couldn't contain, they brought them to Krypton."

Ollie nods. "And they can't do that now because he's gone?"

"Because _everyone_ is gone," Clark says morosely. "Krypton was destroyed. I'm the only one left."

It isn't a surprise, but it is a shock that leaves Ollie feeling sucker punched. An entire planet, _Clark's_ planet, is dead. Billions of people snuffed out by some sort of catastrophe. Hollowed out, Ollie can barely find it in himself to mutter, "Shit."

"I was there, but I was too young to remember what happened," Clark says. "I know their names and I think I remember what their voices sounded like, but that's it." He sounds lost as he adds, "I should remember something, shouldn't I? I'm the only one left and I don't remember _anything_."

Ollie thinks of his parents, of the few memories he treasures, and can't stop himself from reaching out to rest a hand on the back of Clark's neck. He leaves it there as a reminder of his presence, something to ground Clark in the present before the past can consume him. His thumb slides gently over the warm skin in a touch that's more comforting than sexual for them both.

It seems to work. Clark draws in a slow, even breath before adding, "The Phantom Zone opened here last year and the GLC detected it. They thought it meant that my father had survived."

Something about the conversation reminds Ollie of another one they've shared. "That's the project you've been working on, isn't it? The project that you said is more important than stopping Lex and 33.1."

"Yeah," Clark nods. "I got locked into the Phantom Zone last year, on Dark Thursday, and when I got out some of the prisoners escaped with me. They escaped _because_ of me."

He leans his head back against the bark of the tree and swallows; the action makes it hard not to stare at the column of his throat. "I've been trying to round them up ever since. John says a few of the Lanterns may be able to help, but Oa's been busy." Clark smiles bitterly. "They're stretched pretty thin since Krypton's destruction."

Ollie leans back with him, thinking of their exchange. "We can help," he says. "The team."

"You've got your hands full with 33.1," Clark says. "This is my problem." He sits up, turning to look at Ollie. "I'm sorry you got dragged back here for this."

"I'm not," Ollie says, turning as well. "I'm not sorry that this brought me here. You don't have to do this alone, Clark," he reaches out, closing a hand around Clark's. "You don't have to do any of this alone."

When Clark looks at him, Ollie takes the chance and kisses him.

 

4\. **_now and then we get caught up in need_**

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely man," Bart's head bobs in a furious nod that's almost a blur, his fingers fidgeting along the edge of the chair so fast they wear the fabric. Ordinarily, it would irritate Ollie, but right now it's worrisome. Bart's got better control than this. "Aunt Iris is _freaking_."

Aunt Iris. That's one Ollie hasn't heard before and he makes note of it, adding it to the scant list of things he knows about Bart. It's ironic that, of all of them, Bart is the most secretive. They're all cautious, the job demands it, but he's got them all beat on evasiveness. For a guy who almost never stops talking, he manages to avoid saying anything at all.

"How long has Wally been gone?" Ollie asks, keeping his voice even.

"Long enough," Bart says, voice rising. "He's _four_, Ollie. Four year olds don't just take off for the weekend."

"I know," Ollie says, holding up a placating hand. "We've got to do this right, Bart. If we don't, Wally's the one who will pay for it, okay?" He holds Bart's gaze with his own, waiting for the younger man to agree with him. The moment stretches out for him; he knows it's an eternity for Bart. "He doesn't need Cousin Bart right now," he adds. "He needs Impulse."

Bart frowns darkly, drumming his fingers. "I know," he says. "It's just -- "

Thinking of the Ridge facility, Ollie pictures a little boy in Bart's place, running for his life and unable to stop. The pencil in his hand snaps, startling him. "We're going to find him, Bart," he insists. "I promise you, we _will_ find him."

-

It's midnight in Metropolis and there's a beautiful woman in the Watchtower. Unfortunately Ollie's on a plane half a world away while, on the screen of his laptop, Chloe Sullivan sits in his desk chair and nurses a mug of coffee.

"Did I wake you?" he asks, giving her his most charming grin.

She shakes her head, stirring the coffee. "Deadline," she says. "Have I thanked you for letting me crash here?"

He grins. "You have. Someone should be using it and besides, it's weird to call you Watchtower when you aren't actually in it."

Chloe laughs. "Well, we can always come up with a new codename. Something sexier."

"Like you need the help," he teases back.

It feels almost a normal night, except this is Chloe and she's scarily perceptive. Her smile fades and she leans forward, putting down the mug. "Okay, shoot. What is it?"

"Bart's cousin disappeared yesterday," Ollie says. "The kid's four." He watches Chloe's eyes widen dramatically as he lays out the situation and what they've been able to determine.

Which, at thirty thousand feet, isn't a whole hell of a lot.

"You think Lex has him," Chloe says. It's not a question. She frowns. "Ollie --"

"I know, Chloe," Ollie says. "I know, we're talking about a little boy and that's out there, even for Lex Luthor. Believe me, I've been telling myself the same thing since Bart brought this to me." He sighs, poking at papers on his desk. "Right now, everything we can pull up suggests it's 33.1 and if that's true – the chances are good one of the Luthors is behind it."

Chloe's frown deepens, but she doesn't argue that point. "Still, you're heading back here? Lex would have to be _crazy_ to bring the kid back here."

"Crazy like a fox," Ollie quips. "Think about it, Chloe, we blew that facility to hell and back." He doesn't say it, but the subject is on both their minds. Lex kept Chloe's mother close at hand too. "If it's important enough, he'll take the risk."

Chloe twirls a red pen, tapping it against her lip before pointing it at Ollie. "It's still a pretty big leap to say he would."

"The habit is there," Ollie says. "And given how screwed up his life is right now, Lex doesn't have the option of traveling far a field. He's got no choice but stick close to home. If that's true, then our best bet is starting in Smallville and Metropolis."

She nods quietly. "Do you want me to bring Clark into this?"

"Not yet," Ollie says. "We're going to need him, but if this is true and Lex is behind it --"

"Yeah," Chloe sighs. "He's not going to take that one well." She looks away, off camera. "Truth is, _I'm_ not taking this well. I've never been the president of Lex's fan club, but this isn't him, Oliver."

It's Ollie's turn not to argue this time. For a time, it seems Smallville brought out a side of Lex Luthor he's never had the opportunity to see.

Clearing her throat, Chloe brings his attention back to the screen. She smiles sadly. "Tell Bart I'm on it."

"Will do," he says.

"I'll keep you in the loop," she promises, ending the conversation.

Ollie sits back and prays that he's wrong.

5\. _**let our hearts grow fierce in the wind**_

When he hears about Chloe, he puts in a call to her father and promises all the help he can provide. His security people are flying in the best doctors within hours.

After that, he receives daily updates on her condition from both her doctors and his people. After that, Chloe isn't out of their sight for even a second. Whatever Lionel is doing, whatever Lex is claiming, Ollie doesn't trust anyone with Chloe's safety but himself.

He doesn't want to think too closely about _why_ that is. He isn't ready to try to explain it to Clark when he asks; he isn't ready to try explaining it to himself.

Victor and A.C ask check with him daily for updates on Chloe, Bart just vanishes. Ollie doesn't miss his disappearances, but doesn't call him on them either. When he comes back from seeing Chloe, Bart always has the same hollow expression on his face, the one they're all wearing.

Everyone's holding their breath and they might even be praying a little.

-

Chloe wakes up at 2:35 pm on a Tuesday, the second afternoon of the month. By 2:36 Ollie is on a plane.

-

"When I told you to keep an eye on them, this isn't what I had in mind," Ollie murmurs, brushing a limp lock of hair away from Chloe's face and she smiles at him. It's so much like her old smile, the one that greeted him every night on his laptop's screen, that his heart clenches. He doesn't want to know how close they came to losing her, but the doctors have made it abundantly clear and he can't forget the ominous words they'd used to get their point across.

He watches her take breath, measured and slow as she thinks, and feels himself breathe with her. It's as if he's breathing for her, willing her chest to rise and fall. She reaches out then, closing her hand around his wrist and tugging him down onto a chair by her bed.

"Well, I was stuck," she says, smiling still. "We needed a miraculous resurrection, and I was fresh out of miracles."

Ollie thinks otherwise; the fact she's still here counts as one. "Don't do it again," he warns.

She bites her lip, looks at him sideways. "If it's someone I care about – "

He realizes how forcefully he's spoken and the import of his response. "I'm not willing to trade your life for someone else's. Not anyone's." Lois, Clark, not anyone. "I didn't come back to Smallville for your funeral, Chloe."

She dimples. "I'm not dead."

"No, you aren't," he says with relief. "Though you may end up that way. The guys probably want to kill you for putting them through this."

Chloe gestures to the flowers dominating her room. "So Bart said. _Many_ times."

He grins. "He's been worried sick. We all were."

She nods. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Yeah, well, you did it anyway, didn't you?" he says, suddenly angry with Lois. A newfound passion for journalism is all well and good, but he's not willing to trade lives for bylines, whether it's Lois or Chloe. "You're too important to lose, Chloe, the team needs you." He almost adds _I_ need you, but manages to stop the words before they escape.

That's not a conversation either of them are ready to have.

Chloe curls her fingers around his and squeezes tight. "I'm not going anywhere." A sly twinkle enters her gaze. "You pay me too well for that."

He grins, squeezing back. "You promise not to scare the hell out of me again and there's a generous raise in it for you."

She shifts, turns onto her hip to face him. Ollie watches the process, watching her take care not to lose her grip on his hand. "Exactly how generous would this raise be?" she asks, smiling still.

"Name your price," he says, meaning every word of it. He'd give away a fortune not to get another phone call like the last one and he'd give away another one to avoid Gabe Sullivan having to make that call. He's made a lot of good business moves for Queen Industries in his time, but hiring Gabe was the best one by far. "Trust me, Chloe; I'll pay whatever you want as long as you don't ever put me or your Dad through that again."

Chloe looks pensive. "He was the one who called you?"

Ollie rubs his thumb over her hand, stroking the skin in a gently soothing motion. "Yeah, the hospital called him and then he called me." He can still hear the shaking in Gabe's voice when he'd said the one sentence that brought Ollie's world to a halt. _Something's happened to Chloe._

She squints suspiciously. "Are you trying to guilt trip me?"

He brightens, happy to have the diversion. "Is it working?"

Chloe scowls. "Yes."

Ollie's grin is nothing short of smug. "Good."

"I still want that raise," she insists.

"Raise, new computer, new car, your own private island," Ollie waves his free hand and grins, "whatever your heart desires."

Chloe looks at him and, holding his breath, Ollie hopes.


End file.
